


Jake

by edy



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abusive Behavior, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Catfish - Freeform, M/M, Online Relationship, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: shut up, Tyler would text. send me a dick pic now send me a video where you're jacking off





	

**Author's Note:**

> translation into русский available: [jake](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4928312) by [neighvael](https://ficbook.net/authors/418104)
> 
> dear [mason](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollarize/pseuds/Pollarize),  
> thank you, thank you, thank you

Tyler is an asshole. He's also eighteen years old and bitter, but he was an asshole before then, too.

It got worse when he broke his leg and tore his ACL during a non-competitive game of basketball with his brothers and, ultimately, ruined his chances of going away to college on that basketball scholarship his parents held in higher regards than his mental health.

"Such a shame," his mother sighed, accompanied by his father shaking his head in disappointment. "You wanted to go pro so badly, Tyler."

Tyler was confined to his bed for months. His leg became the subject of multiple surgeries and prodding eyes, and every single day, Tyler began to resent anybody who dared speak to or look at him.

He isolated himself. It wasn't good. It isn't good.

Tyler is an asshole.

Since he didn't want to leave his bed unless it was absolutely necessary, he frequented his time on his laptop and watching TV. He had fun the first few days, laughing at cartoons, getting caught up on his shows, and masturbating, but he got bored of the television screen and his dick pleaded for a break. Tyler craved interaction. It was too late for him to replace his classes with their online counterparts, thus why he turned to social media to get the attention he demanded.

No one followed him. He thought it was because he was too cryptic and couldn't take a good selfie in the dim lighting of his bedroom. So, Tyler got a bad idea.

It didn't seem bad at the time. It was hilarious, actually. Tyler spent fifteen minutes laughing about it, having to wipe his eyes and blow his nose and remember how to properly breathe.

Within the hour, Tyler made a Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram for some guy named Jake Hosack. Tall, gorgeous, and more Lebanese than Tyler could ever be, Jake Hosack was a rugby player at Ohio State University. Tyler found the actual person in the photographs on their Facebook page. He felt no guilt as he saved each picture, public and personal, and uploaded them to his new accounts. He specified on the accounts how he had to remake because of hackers. It worked. No one called him out. He got friends and followers. Girls said he was hot, and boys wanted to know if he'd spread his legs for their cocks. Those messages surprised Tyler. He didn't know why seeing the letters on his computer screen churned his gut. He began to feel guilty after sexting each of these men, but he couldn't stop. As soon as they suggested Skype or exchanging phone numbers, Tyler wouldn't respond, maybe even say he preferred their relationship to stay like this. Sometimes the men would understand and would continue to send dick pics every other week, but then there were others who wanted nothing to do with him. Tyler feared they suspected he was fake despite all his attempts to make his pages appear real.

When it came down to it, Tyler moved on from these men easily, and then proceeded to expand his horizons to the women commenting on his pictures. They didn't get him off like the men. Tyler led the women on, said he was curious, and some of them blocked him while others were understanding.

It was on November third when Tyler met Josh.

Tyler doesn't remember adding Josh. Josh's name appeared on one of Tyler's status about how he is "totally down for some Taco Bell right now". Tyler clicked on Josh's profile and willed his heart to stop fucking pounding.

Tyler is an asshole. He sent Josh a message. _hey you're hot_ , he said. Then, _i'd love to fuck your face_.

Josh replied shortly after. _I'd let you_.

It went on—

_you're a fucking whore aren't you? ready to suck any cock that points in your direction_

_yes yes yes_

_gdi you'd look so pretty with your legs open for me_

_All night, for you, only you. Want you to fuck me so hard i can't walk the next day_

_oh i will_

Tyler's orgasm was one of the most intense he's ever had. He and Josh did this every night. It was good. It was so good.

Their relationship blossomed. It was different with Josh. Tyler didn't feel guilty giving Josh his phone number, and he even risked sending nudes. Face not visible and only of his dick, Tyler thought this was safe. No one would be able to pick his dick from a lineup.

Josh sent nudes of his own, albeit he showed his face. Taken in a bathroom with far too much clutter on the sink counter, Josh's skin was pale under the overhead bulbs, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were more emphasized and worrying. Tyler couldn't get aroused at this. He tried, but couldn't.

_everything going okay?_

_Is my dick that bad_

_NO i meant… you look exhausted_

So, again, their relationship blossomed. They didn't sext every day; it became something they did on special occasions, mostly late at night on the weekend. Josh talked about his day, about his job at a record store, about his band he hoped would make it big in the future. Despite having to spin a new web of lies when it came to specifics on his life, Tyler enjoyed the conversation. He liked Josh, and that was dangerous.

One night, when Josh was supposed to be asleep, he tried to call Tyler. Tyler didn't pick up. He lay in bed and watched his phone vibrate and ring and ring. In the morning, Tyler asked what happened.

Josh said nothing happened. Josh said he wanted to hear Tyler's voice. Tyler is an asshole. He didn't text Josh back.

Later that night, Josh wanted reassurances that Tyler lived in Ohio. _I'm in Ohio!_ Josh said, and Tyler couldn't stop his shaking.

_We should meet up_

_why?_

_Because I want to see you_

_i can send you a selfie._ Tyler was already on his face claim's Instagram, scrolling through recent posts for a selfie.

But Josh didn't want that. _I want to see you in person, Jake_ , he said, _and I want to hear your voice._

Tyler was confused. _who the hell is Jake?_ he almost sent, but remembered he was Jake Hosack and not Tyler Joseph.

 _i'm shy_ , he replied. _i have really bad anxiety._

Why couldn't a guy as handsome as the one in his picture be anxious? Josh understood right away.

_Sorry, dude._

Tyler is an asshole.

Once his leg healed and his doctors gave him the all-clear, Tyler picked up basketball again. It didn't feel right. Nothing felt right. Around this time, Josh began to have troubles of his own. For days, they wouldn't speak, and Tyler turned to the guys in his inbox for his kicks. He didn't feel right after that either.

It was another late night when Josh tried to call Tyler. He didn't answer. He texted. _what do you want man? fucking sleeping_

_Sorry_

_no, fuck you, what do you want? told you once before i don't talk on the phone, but you still fucking do it. must be really important. what is it_

_I'm sorry Jake_

_josh don't pull this shit just tell me i'm tired_

_I'm tired too_

_josh shut up_

_Jake_

Josh said he was genderfluid, so Tyler said he was, too. He didn't know what it meant, but he did know it would make Josh both feel better and shut the fuck up. Tyler was tired. Josh sent Tyler a smiley face, and they each went to sleep.

Tyler is an asshole. This has been said many times before. Tyler is an asshole, and _yes_ , he was an asshole before his accident, but _whatever_ ; Tyler blames his parents. Almost everything having to do with trauma and _being an all-around asshole_ can be traced back to the parents. So, Tyler blames his parents.

It actually is his parents' faults this time. They got upset with Tyler, said he needed to try to get on that basketball scholarship again when the new school year rolled around. And Tyler said no. "Why not?" his parents asked, and Tyler shrugged and said, "I'm just not into basketball that much anymore."

Yelling ensued, profanity was said, some things Tyler wished he could take back, and now Tyler was looking for apartments or houses he could rent with some of his friends. When he brought this up offhandedly in a text with Josh, Josh immediately jumped at the opportunity, and Tyler wished he forgot how to use his thumbs.

_Dude you could totally live with me!_

_why would i do that_

_because we're dating…? Why else would we lol_

Tyler hated himself at this moment. He couldn't stop. _are we dating? i hadn't noticed_

_What does that even mean Jake_

_i didn't think we were dating, is all_

_Then what are we?_

_just two boys who want to fuck each other into next week_

Josh tried to call him. Tyler ignored the call and didn't talk to Josh for the rest of the month. Josh continued to text him throughout this, mostly asking how Tyler's day was going and if there was anything Josh could do to make this new phase of Tyler's life be transitioned into easier.

On the night before Tyler was set to move into his new place with his friends, Tyler called Josh.

And Josh picked up. And Josh said, "Hello?" with the most tired and angelic voice Tyler had ever heard.

Tyler's heart stopped. He bit the inside of his cheek and said, "Hello."

Josh said, "Hello," again, and so did Tyler.

Josh said, "Jake?" And Tyler wished he was Jake. He wished he was Jake.

"Whatever," Tyler sighed, and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Wanted to fucking tell you I care about you a whole lot, but I can't do this with you anymore." He tried to make his voice deeper. He wouldn't say Josh's name.

Josh was quiet. Josh said, "What?"

Tyler said, "I'unno. I guess if we were dating, then this would be me breaking up with you."

"Jake, what did I—?"

"Everything," Tyler said, and hung up. Josh called back, but Tyler didn't answer. From that day on, Tyler was in control.

When Josh texted him, Tyler didn't reply. Tyler needed to start the conversation, and he was rude. Tyler felt nothing as he told Josh he didn't care how his day went, didn't care about his job, didn't care about his band, didn't _fucking care_ how Josh still loved him.

 _shut up_ , Tyler would text. _send me a dick pic_

Josh jumped at that. Josh always jumped at that, even if Tyler didn't return them.

_you're hot. now send me a video where you're jacking off  
_

And Josh would jump at that, too. Tyler remembers stroking his dick in time with Josh and coming when long beads rolled down the side of Josh's cock. Out of breath and overly stimulated, Tyler would send Josh, _so fucking good for me_ , before cleaning off, rolling onto his stomach, and sleeping soundly.

Tyler was an asshole at eighteen, and it didn't stop when he turned nineteen. He didn't attend college. He lived with his friends and worked on music. Tyler liked music. His friends liked his music. And Josh still sent him nudes and asked how his day was going. Tyler said thanks for the nudes and said nothing about his day.

Tyler was an asshole at nineteen, and it didn't stop when he turned twenty. Still not in college, still in the same house with his friends, still writing songs and trying to get people to notice him, Tyler got nudes from Josh and got caught by his friends sending some of his own.

"Dude, don't fucking say you were taking a shit when you were actually taking dick pics," Mark said, and then brought it upon himself to decide if the pic was good enough to send. Mark said it was.

"So, who's the lucky person?"

Tyler chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Just some guy I met on Facebook."

Mark snorted. "Okay, I get it."

"Do you?"

"You're a whore, Tyler."

Tyler liked that. He wrote it into one of his songs.

Some nights, Tyler would lie in bed and wonder what Josh was up to, if he was doing okay. Tyler thought about asking, but his fingers typed, _god do you know what you do to me?_ And Josh replied instantly and said, _Tell me_ , and Tyler received three more pictures and a video by the end of that night.

Some nights, Tyler would lie in bed and sleep. On those nights, he didn't hate himself.

Tyler was an asshole at twenty, and it didn't stop when he turned twenty-one. It was past midnight, and his friends were shoving drinks down his throat and laughing and writing songs about coconuts and sharks in the water.

It was Mark who kept pulling Tyler's phone from his hand, who kept telling Tyler it was his birthday and his friends were here. " _Alcohol_ , man," Mark said, and poured Tyler another shot. "Put your phone away."

Tyler laughed—tried to laugh. It came out high and breathless. "No, no, no. You don't understand. This guy I'm talking to said he was gonna send me a video of him fucking himself."

That's why the party paused, and they sat around Tyler's phone. Tyler held it, eagerly opened up on the conversation with Josh, and when the video came in, they all shouted and laughed. And then, they watched the video. And then, they all shouted and laughed again.

"Shut up. _Shut up_." Tyler waved his hand. "I gotta send him back somethin' nice." So, Tyler sent him, _good boy, very good boy, wanna pull your hair while i fuck you like that._

"Dude, why haven't you fucked him yet? He wants you so bad," Nick said. Maybe Chris. Tyler's head hurt.

"M'not myself," Tyler said, fingers shaking as he bounced his leg and tossed another shot into his mouth.

"Whatever, dude."

"It's true!" Tyler said, laughing and pointing, phone in his hand, waving his phone, waving his hand. He didn't remember the rest of that night. He woke up in his bed with his phone charging and a killer hangover.

 _Did you mean to send that picture?_ Josh had sent Tyler.

The picture Tyler accidentally sent was blurry, of his face, eyes crinkled as he laughed like a fucking seal. He couldn't tell it was himself, so he didn't worry.

 _no_ , Tyler said. _sorry it was my birthday and i drank a little too much_

Tyler rubbed his eyes. _i like talking to you josh_

_I like talking to you too Jake :)_

Tyler didn't talk to Josh for three months.

At first, Josh asked what Tyler was up to, if everything was going okay, and when Tyler didn't respond, he started sending pictures.

Those pictures? Tyler found himself nearly in tears every time he came with one pulled up on his phone. He hated himself. He couldn't stop. Josh was desperate for contact. He thought sending nude photos of himself would get Tyler to reply because that's who Tyler was—a pig. Tyler was a pig. He drooled over Josh's body and treated him like shit, and he _didn't care_. Tyler didn't care.

Three months of silence, Tyler said, _josh you're such a good person_.

Josh replied immediately. _You are too, Jake. I love you so much_

Tyler didn't reply. Why didn't he reply?

Tyler was an asshole at twenty-one, and it didn't stop when he was twenty-two. He didn't talk to Josh for a full year, and when he did, it was because Josh called him. Josh was drunk. Josh said he was scratching open his skin and crying out his eyes and tugging on his hair. "Please, Jake," he said. "Talk to me. Tell me I matter. Tell me anything."

It was when Tyler was nineteen when he called Josh and broke off whatever they had. Three years later, they were still talking, and Josh called him and wanted to hear his voice. He wanted to talk. He wanted to talk.

Tyler shook so badly he almost dropped his phone. "You matter," he said, voice deep, like Jake, because Josh was in love with Jake. Jake and Josh, Josh and Jake. Did Josh waste his nights thinking about kissing Jake? Sucking Jake's dick? Spreading his legs and letting Jake fuck him? Tyler shuddered. He couldn't stop shaking.

"I can't do this anymore."

"You said that before. You don't mean it. You said that before."

Tyler didn't want to say Josh's name, but he said Josh's name. "Josh, shut the fuck up. I can't do this."

"Jake—"

"Josh," he said it again, and didn't even bother to change his voice. "I don't know what we're doing. I don't know what you want. I don't like you. I hate you. I get fucking sick to my stomach thinking about you. I can't do this."

" _Jake_ —"

Tyler lied. He fucking lied. "I'm not genderfluid. I don't even know what that means. I'm a guy. I'm cis. I didn't want you to feel like a freak. Shit, I like guys and girls and _people_ , but I don't like you. You matter, Josh, but you don't matter to me."

Josh was the one to hang up this time. That night, Tyler logged onto each of Jake's accounts—Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram—and deleted each one. He couldn't stand looking at the unread messages in his inbox, couldn't stand looking at the comments on his pictures, couldn't stand looking at Josh's posts about _fucking cats_. Tyler deleted everything. Jake Hosack was gone. Jake Hosack didn't exist. Tyler sat in his room and cried while his friends went out to a movie, the mall, _wherever_. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Josh matters. Josh matters.

Tyler didn't hear from Josh for years. Tyler wondered who spent the most time thinking about the other. There were moments where Tyler climbed up on the roof of the little house he rented with his friends to close his eyes and think of Josh. Dark hair, white smile, Josh was… Josh was…

"I did something bad, Mark," Tyler said, standing over Mark as he tried to sleep. "Mark, I did something really bad."

"Dude, I'm sleeping."

"Mark, I broke up with that guy. I said some bad things."

"I thought you just sent dick pics to him."

"Well, yeah, but I was an asshole."

Mark snored. Tyler sat on Mark's bed and cried.

Tyler was an asshole at twenty-two, and he tried to stop when he was twenty-three. He smiled more. He breathed easier. He got a new phone and phone number. He made his own social media profiles and was active with, who he called, his fans. His music thrived. He discovered he really was genderfluid. His friends didn't hate him. Tyler didn't think about Josh.

Tyler wasn't an asshole at twenty-three, and it continues when he is twenty-four. Tyler is twenty-four, and when Tyler is twenty-four, he goes to a concert with his friend Jenna and falls in love with the guy on the drums. Vibrant pink hair and a cut-off shirt to show off his arms, he plays with passion and energy that Tyler hopes to harness one day. Yeah, Tyler's in the back, and Jenna keeps asking him to dance, but he spots the pink hair from a mile away, and he wants to talk to the guy, wants to tell him to join Tyler's band, wants to shake his hand, wants to choke on his dick.

Tyler is in love. He hasn't been in love for a while. It's a good feeling.

"Jenna," Tyler says, fingers shaking as he tries to grab for her hand. "Jenna, we have to go backstage. Could we go backstage? Talk to the band?"

Jenna laughs at him, tugging on his arm. "Ty, are you a groupie now?" It's a joke, but Tyler is going _yes, yes, yes_ in his mind. He'll be a groupie. He'll get down on his knees and be treated like shit. He'll do anything to have the guy with the pink hair take him to bed.

It smells of marijuana and rain. Jenna drags Tyler through the crowd, through puke and water spills. They're outside, among more smoke and rain and puke. Tyler almost steps in it. Jenna laughs at him again. "Don't want to ruin your shoes!"

"They have flowers on them," Tyler protests, but it's weak, and Jenna doesn't hear. She's guiding them between drunk college kids and high college kids and sober college kids. "They're everywhere," Tyler says, ignoring the fact he, too, looks like a college kid. "Jenna, where are you taking me?"

She says nothing. They're backstage, the roar of the crowd faint. Peaceful almost, Tyler doesn't feel trapped, doesn't feel claustrophobic, and that's good. It's really good, considering how Tyler freezes at the sight of pink hair. Jenna misinterprets it, thinks it's just Tyler being shy, being stupid. "You wanted to meet them— _go meet them_."

When it comes down to it, yeah, Tyler's a little shy. His anxiety has forced him into skipping out on his friends. It's a miracle he made it out here tonight. "Good music, good music," he told himself, as he paced his house. "You're doing it for good music."

So, yes, Tyler is shy, but that isn't why Jenna is fighting to pull him the rest of the way. He can't breathe. He swallows his tongue. He's unable to move his legs because the guy with the pink hair is—

"Hi! I'm Josh." Josh smiles, white teeth, a ring through his nostril, not his lip, like there was before. Oh, God, there are plugs in his ears and a few flecks of purple in his hair, and Tyler is _dead_.

"I'm Jenna," Jenna says, nudging Tyler after. "This is my friend. _Tyler_. He wanted to talk to you."

"To me?" Josh laughs. Tyler closes his eyes. "I'm just the guy behind the drums."

"Yeah, but you're hot," Jenna says, and Tyler buckles, unflattering and embarrassing.

When he opens his eyes, they're outside again, marijuana and rain and no more crowds. Jenna is gone, too—at least not anywhere Tyler can see. He isn't by himself, though; Josh is with him, and Josh is the last person Tyler needs to be with right now.

"Why are you here?" Tyler asks. He rubs his eyes and tries to stand upright. He falls back onto the brick wall behind him, scraping his elbows. He should have worn a jacket.

"I know a panic attack when I see one," Josh says. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me." Tyler refuses to look at Josh's eyes, Josh's face, Josh's _arms_ —Goddamnit.

"Need anything?

Tyler shakes his head. He looks at his feet. Josh looks at Tyler's feet, too.

"That's an interesting pattern on your leggings," Josh says, and chews on his lip.

"Yeah," Tyler sighs. "They are." He thinks for a moment. "Tribal?"

"Yeah." Josh nods. "Looks a bit like—"

"Women's? Yeah." Tyler stares at Josh, and Josh stares at Tyler. Tyler's heart beats in his chest, races. "I'm, like, what the kids call… genderfluid."

And Josh actually rolls his eyes. He parts his lips, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. "Cool," he says, but his actions say it isn't cool at all. Tyler shrinks. He rubs his arms. Josh says, "That's awesome, actually. Tyler, was it?"

Tyler stares at Josh. He doesn't know why he stares at Josh. Staring at Josh hurts his chest, hurts his head, hurts his eyes. Tyler stares at Josh and hates himself. He hasn't hated himself in such a long time. "Yeah, my name's Tyler. And… you're Josh, right?"

"Josh Dun," Josh says, and he holds out his hand for Tyler to shake.

Tyler shakes it. His palm is clammy and stomach feels sick, but he shakes Josh's hand and musters a smile. "Tyler Joseph."

"I like that," Josh says. Tyler wishes Josh didn't say that. Tyler wishes Josh didn't say his name, didn't play drums, didn't fucking exist. "Do you want to try and find your friend?" Josh asks. "She's your friend, right?"

"Yeah. Friend." Tyler keeps his back to the brick, a cool pressure through his pink t-shirt. "We're not… dating." Shame fills him, and shame overfills him at Josh rolling his eyes again, at Josh shaking his head, at Josh sighing.

"Oh, so that's why you wanted to talk to me."

"W-what?"

"You want my dick, right? Want to fuck around? I'm not into casual sex. Or relationships, for that matter. Not my thing."

"W-why, uh, why isn't it your thing?"

"I'm married to my drums," Josh says, and Tyler sees that as a reasonable explanation as any other. Josh is sighing again, shaking his head again, and he smells like spearmint and body odor, and Tyler wants to hug him. Tyler hugs himself instead, shivering and sliding down the wall until he's crouching. Josh soon joins him, though with a bit more dignity. "That came out wrong," he continues, looking at Tyler's thighs. "I'm sure you're a great guy and all, and I'm really thrilled to meet another genderfluid person, it's… I'm not ready. Just got out—well, that's not true. It was a few years ago. Bad breakup, you know what I mean?"

Tyler keeps quiet. He nods.

Josh nods with him. "Fucked me up pretty bad. He, uh… he lied to me about, like… _everything_ , I think. It was… Sorry." Josh laughs, short and broken. Tyler thinks he might start crying, but Josh doesn't cry. Josh doesn't cry. Josh asks what type of music Tyler likes. Tyler tells him, and for the next hour they discuss their favorite music, their favorite food, their favorite movie, Jesus, even their favorite shampoo. Tyler ends up laughing until he's noiseless and clapping like a seal, and Josh is covering his red face and snorting and inhaling far too much.

When Josh laughs, his tongue sticks between his teeth. When Josh laughs, Tyler hears bells. When Josh laughs, Tyler wonders where this Josh was all those years ago, when Tyler was Jake. When Josh laughs, Tyler remembers this Josh has always been there; Jake— _Tyler_ —just fucked him beyond repair. When Josh laughs, Tyler resents being Jake Hosack.

When Josh laughs, Tyler realizes how much he truly did love Josh. When Josh laughs, Tyler realizes how much he royally screwed up.

Jenna finds them at a quarter after midnight. They're still laughing, still talking. Tyler can talk to Josh all night, and Josh? He's warming up to Tyler, sitting closer to Tyler, touching Tyler's arm when he says something that excites him. It's endearing. It's lovely. Tyler wants to kiss him. Tyler doesn't.

Jenna says, "There you are! Almost thought you found a ride without me." She winks.

Tyler turns pink.

Josh laughs.

No more marijuana and no more rain, the night is young, but Jenna wants to go home. Tyler stands on shaking legs and tries something he shouldn't do. He was an asshole. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve a lot of things, but he wants to deserve this. He wants the chance to start over, to make things right.

"What's your phone number?" Tyler gets out his phone, tossing it from hand to hand. "We can totally talk about that music thing. I'm serious about letting you in on it."

Josh types in his number into Tyler's phone. "You're making a mistake," he says with more laughter in his tone.

"No," Tyler says, giving Josh his number in return. "You're great."

*

They talk all night and well into the morning. Neither of them sleeps. They send selfies around noon with bags under their eyes and tired smiles. It wasn't the first picture Tyler sent of himself to Josh, but it was the first to have his face, his actual face intended to be seen by Josh. Twenty-one and wasted out of his mind, that was an accident. Tyler doesn't like to think about that night. He was an asshole. He was _such_ an asshole.

"Do you think you could ever forgive him?" Tyler asks, sipping on a milkshake, as he and Josh spin at the counter of a diner.

"I dunno," Josh admits, slurping on his own milkshake. It's strawberry, a pink color like his hair. "He… Gosh, I don't even know what I saw in him, why I let myself be strung along for all those years."

"What did he look like?" Tyler dances on a thin line. "Was he hot?"

"His dick was." That catches the attention of the passing waitress, who raises her eyebrows and scurries to deliver an order of chicken tenders and fries. Josh drags out his phone, clicks on his email. "Dunno why I… kept some of his pictures. One of my friends reverse image searched them and said they didn't even belong to some guy named Jake Hosack. At the time, though, Jake had deleted all his social media accounts, so… I just figured they wouldn't be attached to his name." Josh slides over his phone. Tyler scoots to the edge of his seat to get a better look. Sure enough, it's the half-smile of Jake, dark hair swept off his forehead, eyebrows well groomed, and skin as dark and clear as Tyler remembered. Tyler gestures to the phone and draws out his index finger. Josh nods and takes another drink. Tyler scrolls.

Josh said he didn't know why he kept "some" of Jake's pictures when it seemed like he kept _all_ of Jake's pictures. Selfies Tyler took from Instagram, personal pictures with the guy's friends from Facebook, hell, even candid photos from Twitter, Josh kept them all. He even kept the dick pics— _the fucking dick pics._ Tyler didn't even save any of the nudes he got from strangers, not even Josh's. And here Tyler is, sitting in a diner at the front counter, gnawing at a plastic straw, staring at his own dick on Josh's phone. God must be having a field day.

"Hot dick, right?" Josh deadpans.

Tyler clears his throat and continues scrolling. "I've seen better."

At the very end is the blurry picture Tyler accidentally sent to Josh on the night he turned twenty-one. Tyler closes his eyes on that, and Josh takes back his phone. "See," he says, "this picture was an accident. He said it was an accident. So, he was obviously real. I mean, it looks like the guy in the pictures, yeah?" Josh is speaking faster now, his fingers trembling. "I mean, all the pictures on his profile had him doing that smirk thing with his mouth, and here, when he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the sides. He has dark skin, good eyebrows. And yeah, all the pictures had him having straight white teeth, and in this picture they look a tad crooked. And yeah, his hair is fluffy, and he normally kept it swept off his forehead, but he was drunk with his friends, so his hair was bound to mess up." Josh talks in tongues. He's pale. "He, he told me he liked talking to me, and then didn't talk to me for three months. Why would someone do that, Tyler? I don't understand."

"Maybe he had some stuff going on in his life?"

"And he took it out on me?" There are tears in Josh's eyes. He sniffs. "I wish I could meet him and tell him all the shit he put me through. Fucking let him know about all those nights I went to bed and thought about driving to his college and finding him. I would tell him…" Josh rubs at his eyes and pulls his milkshake closer. He sips angrily. "Do you know what I did after he told me he liked talking to me? I texted all my friends who knew about him and said how they were wrong, how he didn't hate me, how he actually cared. Sure, okay, years before he broke up with me _or something_. But what we had was real. I forced myself to believe that. I needed to believe that."

Tyler watches Josh.

Josh touches his bottom lip with two fingertips. "Do you know what I fucking sent the guy? Pictures, _videos_. My friends tried to tell me he was probably doing this to other guys, girls, whoever. I called them all stupid. 'He wouldn't do that,' I told them. 'He's nice. He likes talking to me.'"

"Did, uh, did you ever… video chat with him?" Tyler reaches over, gently rubs the crook of Josh's arm. "Talk on the phone?"

"We talked on the phone. Barely. He said he had bad anxiety, which I get completely. I'm a mess. I might have pressured him a few nights, but I needed to hear his voice. I was going crazy. I couldn't handle it. Hearing his voice would have… would have made it real." Josh closes his eyes. "I wanted to tell him so much, and he… he told me I didn't matter to him. All those years, and I didn't fucking matter." Josh wipes his eyes and swirls his straw in his milkshake. It's nearly empty. "I hung up on him after that. Didn't talk to him ever again. Checked on his profiles the next month or so, and they were all gone. I think he was fake."

"What an asshole," Tyler says. And then, repeating himself, "Do you think you could ever forgive him?"

And Josh says, "No, he broke my heart."

They leave the diner. That night Tyler texts Josh. _for what it's worth, you matter to me_

Tyler texts Josh. _i like talking to you josh_

And Josh reads the messages and doesn't reply.

Tyler stands over Mark while he sleeps and says, "I did something bad, Mark."

Tyler says, "I know you're awake. Please talk to me."

Mark says, "Fuck off," and Tyler sits on Mark's bed.

"Mark, I don't know what to do."

Mark sighs.

"Mark, I met that guy again—the guy who sent me dick pics. I didn't seek him out. He hates me so much, but doesn't know it's me he hates. What do I do? I think I really like him this time. I think I need to give him a second chance."

"Dude, I'm sleeping."

"I don't think he'll give me a second chance, once he realizes what I did to him. Should I not tell him? Or would that make things worse? I haven't kissed him yet. I should probably kiss him first."

"Oh, yeah. That'll make everything better."

"Thanks, Mark. You're such a good friend."

Mark shoves a pillow over his head.

*

Tyler kisses Josh on the sofa, the TV playing a commercial on MTV. It's about safe sex. Josh's tongue is sweet. Tyler touches Josh's arms and wilts at the gentle massage to the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Tyler says, eyes burning holes into Josh's lips. "I know you're married to your drums."

"We got divorced last week," Josh says.

"Oh." Tyler smiles. "That's good."

They kiss again.

"Can I suck your dick?" Tyler asks, spit already on his lips, on his chin.

"Yeah," Josh says.

Tyler works. Josh works. Tyler lowers his head and wraps his lips around the head of Josh's cock, kissing, suckling. Josh's eyes roll, his hand comes to rest in Tyler's hair, and Tyler forgets how to breathe.

"Right, okay," Tyler says, after swallowing Josh's semen. "Wanna do me now?"

Josh's eyes are on the TV, though, narrowed at the screen, narrowed at the program, narrowed at fucking _Catfish_.

Tyler scrambles for the remote. Josh sets his jaw. "I thought about emailing those guys. Do you think they would have gotten a hold of Jake? Would have let me talk to him, in person, and tell him how much of an asshole he was to me?"

Shaking, Tyler is shaking so damn bad. "Uh. Maybe." He fixes Josh's jeans, patting his thigh afterward. "I don't think I ever asked what your pronouns were."

"'He'."

"Mine, too."

Josh continues, "I would probably punch him in the face. He never told me how tall he was, but I think I could take him."

Elbow to his knee, fist to his cheek, Tyler sits cross-legged and flips through the channels. "Uh-huh?"

"You're Lebanese, aren't you? Or, at least, like, partly?"

Tyler stiffens. "Yes. Why?"

"You remind me of him a bit."

Tyler closes his eyes.

Josh immediately apologizes. "I'm being annoying. You probably don't want to hear about him."

"No, no. It's entertaining. Makes me wish I wasn't that guy."

"What?"

Tyler leans back, legs to his chest now. "Nothing. Do you want to suck my dick now?"

"No," Josh says. He won't stop staring at Tyler. "It's getting late. Told my band mates I would practice with them tomorrow."

"Dude, I told you to join _my_ band."

Josh doesn't give Tyler a response. He kisses Tyler's forehead and leaves, and that was that. Tyler thinks something is going to happen tomorrow. He doesn't want to know what.

He has dreams of being eighteen, of going to one of Josh's concerts. He recorded the whole thing and sent it to Josh for proof that he was there. Tyler didn't look like Jake, so he couldn't show his face. In his dream, though, Tyler caught Josh after the show, told him how much he loved it, how much he loved him. And then, Tyler blushed and tried to correct himself, but Josh laughed and said it was okay. "I knew what you meant."

Tyler has dreams of being eighteen and taking Josh home with him, of being fucked and fucking and everything in between. Tyler has dreams of being eighteen and not being a complete asshole.

Tyler wakes with a start and bursts into Mark's room. Mark is sleeping. Tyler climbs on his bed. "Mark, can you trace a disconnected phone number to someone?"

Mark says, "Dude, I'm sleeping."

Mark says, "Yeah, you can. If someone puts down a phone number with their name, anything can be traced back to it, even if they change their number. Their name will be tied to it." Mark props his head with a hand and looks at Tyler. "For instance, you could give someone a fake number when you bump into their car, but if it's an old phone number, then there are websites and people who can trace that disconnected phone number to the original owner. You could get charged with falsifying info, then, I think." He furrows his brow. "Why?"

Mattress creaking, Tyler stomps from the room. "I'm such a _fucking asshole_."

*

Tyler tries to make plans with Josh.

Josh doesn't reply.

If Tyler deserves anything, it's this.

*

He's out with Jenna when Josh finally texts him back. It's of that selfie Tyler sent while he drank with his friends. It was an accident. Dear God, it was an accident.

Tyler chews off his thumbnail. _yeah?_

_That was you, wasn't it? I see it now, the hairline, the point of the nose. It was never Jake._

Tyler's thumbnail bleeds.

_It was never Jake._

_josh, Please i can explain._

Josh doesn't reply.

"Take me home," Tyler tells Jenna. "I don't feel so well."

*

Josh agrees to meet the next day. They sit on a park bench, a foot of space between them. Tyler watches a squirrel stuff its face. He wants to laugh, but can't.

"Explain," Josh says, sunglasses on and playing with the zipper on his sweat jacket.

"I-I—"

"You wanted to explain. So, explain. I shouldn't even give you the time of day right now, Tyler. You… Dammit, Tyler. You sat there and—" Josh presses his lips together.

"I'm sorry."

Josh scoffs.

"I _am_ sorry." Tyler rubs his eyes. "I was eighteen and stupid, and I had just broken my leg—"

"So, you decide to ruin my life."

Tyler ignores that. "I was bored and hated myself. I couldn't go to college on that basketball scholarship my parents valued more than myself, and I was _bored_. That's it. I was bored."

"So, you decide to ruin my life."

Tyler tries to ignore that. He digs his teeth into his lip. "I wished I never agreed to play that game with my brothers. I wouldn't have broken my leg. I wouldn't have—"

"—decided to ruin my life."

" _Josh!_ " Tyler turns, eyes wide and hands going under his legs to sit on them. "Shut the fuck up. I'm explaining shit, and I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me and just fucking listen."

Behind his sunglasses, Josh is placid. He taps his foot. The squirrel disappears up a tree. "You ruined my life, Tyler."

"I know. _Jesus_ , I know."

"You ruined my life, Tyler." Josh leans in as he says this, leaning in and pushing his sunglasses onto his head. His eyes are cold. His eyes are dark. His eyes are dangerous. "You ruined my life, and I hate you."

A shiver passes through Tyler's body. He shuts his eyes, turns his head, but Josh grabs his chin, forces him to turn around again. "Open your eyes," he whispers.

Tyler does.

Josh looks into Tyler's eyes. "You broke my heart."

Tyler cries.

Josh pushes, then, shoves, and Tyler tips onto his side. It hurts, hitting the metal of the bench's intricate rails. White knuckles, Tyler grips it, stays there, closes his eyes. On his cheeks, his tears are warm.

When he opens his eyes, rain clouds are overhead, and Josh is gone.

*

Tyler isolates himself. His friends don't ask how he's doing, what's going on. What would Tyler even tell them?

"I was an asshole."

Seems right.

He's also pathetic.

_josh_

_josh please_

_josh i'm sorry_

_Josh_

Periodically, done now without thought, Tyler texts Josh every few hours. Josh doesn't reply, but he reads them. That's something, right?

_josh i was an ass and i know you can't possibly forgive me but i'm asking for you to forgive me. i don't deserve it. i deserve this silence. i did this to you and i don't know why. i was mean. i was rude. i was an ass. josh i was an idiot to not realize this sooner but i care about you. i really do and it hurts it hurts so bad josh_

_Josh you matter to me_

_i think i love you_

_please say something_

Josh does, but it isn't what Tyler expects.

 _Shut up_ , Josh texts, _send me a dick pic._

And it's fucking verbatim what Tyler would text Josh when he pretended to be Jake. Josh followed through. He always followed through. Josh was scared. Josh wanted Jake in his life. Josh thought sending nudes would ensure that.

Tyler quietly shuts and locks the bathroom door behind him. Pajamas on his thin frame, they don't take too long for Tyler to pry away. T-shirt, flannel bottoms, boxers, Tyler spends two minutes standing in front of his mirror. He stares at himself, the circles under his eyes, the cracks in his lips, the oil in his hair. Tyler has stubble on his cheeks and wiry, coarse hair between his legs. His dick is soft, and no matter how much he thinks about Josh pressing into him until he arches his back and screams, it stays soft.

He knows he's already pathetic, but he can't have teary-eyed nudes. Josh has seen him cry far too much.

Tyler holds up his phone, switches to the camera app, and covers his eyes with his palm. His palm is clammy. His palm was clammy when he shook Josh's hand for the first time.

Josh replies immediately. _Tyler_

 _what?_ Tyler is hopeful. He watches Josh type.

_Now send me a video where you're jacking off_

Tyler sinks to the floor. He calls Josh. Josh says, "This isn't a video of you jacking off."

Tyler can't get anything out. He's sobbing, throat constricting and making ugly noises. Josh listens. Josh listens and says, "Tyler."

"Yeah?" Tyler sniffs.

"Send me a video of you jacking off." He hangs up.

It takes a better part of an hour. Josh gets his video. He doesn't request anything else for the rest of the night. Tyler crawls to bed and sleeps naked. He dreams of Josh fucking him. He wakes crying. He deserves this.

*

Mark feeds him pancakes. Nick gives him fresh towels. Jenna drags him to another concert. Nothing feels right.

Josh doesn't text him. This is fine.

*

Josh texts him a month later. _Are you free tonight?_

Tyler wants to say no. Tyler wants to say how he's moved on, how he's busy, how he hasn't thought about receiving this text late at night when he should be sleeping. But Tyler can't. Tyler says yes, and Josh asks if Tyler still knows the way to his place, and Tyler says yes. Tyler says yes.

They hug on the door step. Honestly, if Josh wanted to end it there, Tyler would have allowed it. He would have accepted it. Josh invites him inside, though. And Tyler goes inside.

On the couch, they kiss. Josh is timid. It's a dry peck to Tyler's cheek. "I'm sorry," he says.

"You don't have to apologize," Tyler says.

"It's okay," Josh says, then, and takes Tyler's hands. "It's okay."

Tyler is strong. He cries.

"We're not good for each other." Josh pulls a leg underneath him. He touches Tyler's fingernails, the dull edges. "But… I don't know. Maybe we can get better together."

"That sounds like a bad idea."

"I know. That's why I said it."

Tyler smiles.

"Anything else I should know?"

"You weren't the only one to send me pictures." Josh doesn't react. Josh doesn't care. "You _were_ the only one to get my phone number. Josh… You mean a lot to me."

Slinging his arm around Tyler's torso, Josh hugs Tyler again. "I'm putting a lot into this." He rubs Tyler's back. "I'm giving you another chance. I'm telling myself that was Jake and not _you_. You are not Jake. You are Tyler, and I am willing to try this if you are." Nose in Tyler's neck, lips to Tyler's neck, Josh squeezes Tyler and pulls Tyler onto his lap. "You mean a lot to me, too, Tyler."

"I'm not like that anymore. I'm trying to be a better person."

Josh shushes him. "It's okay. I believe you. I believe you, Tyler."

Sometime between two in the morning and three in the morning, Josh comes inside Tyler, and Tyler comes on his and Josh's stomachs. They're panting and trembling lightly and kissing red lips and sweaty cheeks, and it's all Tyler has, it's all Tyler needs. Tyler hugs Josh, and Josh hugs Tyler.

"Your dick looks exactly as I remembered," Josh sighs into Tyler's shoulder.

Tyler laughs and brushes pink hair from Josh's brow. "I was about to say the same thing."


End file.
